


The New Divide

by IHaveNoLife (JustBritish)



Series: Out of the Shadows [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: South Park: The Stick of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustBritish/pseuds/IHaveNoLife
Summary: The Land of Zaron is preparing for one of the largest battles in the history of the land. The younger residents want in on the action that they missed year after year and they will let nothing stand in their way. Except for one small little detail: they're at war themselves. With betrayal, lost loves, and one androgynous princess, how will the young warriors of Zaron fare?Literally just a re-write of the Black Friday Trilogy and The Stick of Truth gameplay in a medieval time period.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a warning, this is a different formatting and writing style. Also, I don't own anything, obviously.

The dawn of a new day approached in the snow-covered land of Zaron. The rising sun cast beautiful hues of pinks and oranges over the Kingdoms, shining through open windows of wooden homes and throwing rays of gold over the largest, most extravagant marketplace in Zaron, the “Mall.” The so-called Mall was a large open-air market with bright colored fabrics and beaded garlands decorated well-kept oak wood booths. The booths themselves held a variety of goods: expensive jewelry made of the finest gemstones, large supplies of baked foodstuffs, children's games, and endless amounts of perfectly forged weaponry. Standing on the barren, dirt-covered ground in a line were the best guards of the human kingdom. The Head Guard was marching down the line.

“Celebration is here, and the Dark Day is upon us. As you know, the Dark Day is the day that denizens of our blessed land go berserk for the Twelve Days deals. Last year, twenty-six people died and four-hundred-sixty-one were seriously injured.” The captain paused in his ramblings to pat a one-armed guard on his shoulder before continuing down the line. “This winter, merchants are offering eighty percent off to the first thirty people at their booths.”  
Indignant cries of “It will be a bloodbath!” and “How could they do that?” came from the kingdoms guards, their heavy metal armor rattling.  
“For all you new recruits, perhaps you took this position to see just what our branch and the violence  was like. Or perhaps you thought that working the Dark Day wouldn’t be a big deal.” He came to a halt in front of Randy Marshwalker, an older knight at the age of fifty-three, just barely young enough to enter the upper ranks.  
“I’m just here to earn more currency and to serve my kingdom.”

“Or maybe you’re just too stupid to realise what you’ve gotten yourselves into.”  
“That’s enough!” The shout came from behind the guards. They turned to see their captain gazing out at the forest. “Our only chance of surviving this year’s Twelve Days is sticking together. Those of you who signed up are to be commended. But I warn you: do not underestimate the battle that’s about to take place outside this archway.” The other guards were startled by the captain’s sudden vocalization. “Winter is coming,” he continued, mainly to himself as he stared out at the snow-covered fir trees.

 

In another region of Zaron, the Kingdom of Kupa Keep, a young brunette man of about eighteen, Eric Cartman, was swiftly making his way towards the nobles’ lodgings. He tottered down the cobbled pathways due to his large size. He wore a serious expression, brows furrowed beneath his teal-and-gold pointed-hat. In his yellow-gauntleted right hand was a dark brown staff. He knocked on the door of a slightly rundown home, still of noble ownership. A young blonde man wrapped in orange fabric opened the decaying wooden door.

“Good evening, sir. I’m calling together the Fighters of Zaron. I need to speak with Lady McCormick.”

The man peered back into the building before turning to the other man standing before him. “She’s not here right now,” he said, voice muffled by the dark red scarf wrapped over his mouth. 

“Please tell her there is to be a meeting in the Great Hall. I have found a way to get Veneficus Lamina metal, and the fair Lady McCormick will want to hear about it.”  
The brunette wandered away from the home, back to the edifice of a castle. Said castle was large and elaborate, made from the finest masonry. The gray stone exterior was surrounded by a wall. The fortified wall held a drawbridge carved into the center. Just inside the wall were the gardens and courtyard. Within the courtyard was a small pond, a training arena for sword fighting and an archery range, as well as a fairly grand stable large enough to house one horse for every guard plus the royal family. Alongside those amenities was a forge for blacksmiths and watchtowers at each of the four corners. Just minutes later, every eligible warrior in Zaron was appearing at the front gates, making their way towards the grandiose Great Hall.

The Great Hall was located near the center of the castle, just beside the ballrooms. The large room was painted white with dark oak trim. The ceiling was a beautifully painted mural of when Kupa Keep was first created. Many fighters of Zaron had already been seated by their nameplates– carved pieces of bronze nailed to the wooden table. They had obviously come from the far reaches of Zaron, from the shore of the gulf to the ends of the Lost Forest. Tweek– King of Barbarians– with his black war paint, sat between Feldspar– the Wizard King’s most trusted yet monotonous thief– and Kyle, the High Elf. He was the equivalent of king to the Elven populous. Beside the red-headed elf was his trusted ranger, Stan Marshwalker. The four were nearly inseparable allies, practically best friends– though the ranger and Feldspar never got along quite as well as the two kings. The Elven Kingdom Bard, Jimmy, was also in attendance, seated with Prince Token and Clyde Donovan, a weapons dealer for the Human Kingdom. There was an abundance of chatter before the Wizard silenced the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming– Prince Token, High Elf Kyle, Lady McCormick.”

The young, tall, vaguely masculine woman, Kenny McCormick, twirled a lock of her blonde hair. A pink satin dress, worn only by noble women, graced her slim, muscular figure. A complementing purple scarf was wound around her pale neck, slightly covering her red lips.

“Warriors! We have fought many battles together: protecting the villages, saving victimized citizens. But soon, we will be fighting the greatest battle of our young, hot lives. Winter is coming! And the rare smithing metals are hitting the shops.”

“Which nobody can afford, much less obtain,” input Clyde.

“What if I were to tell you that, if we all work together, there's a way we can get the metals?”

Prince Token stood from his place at the elongated table. “If you know of a way, Wizard, then speak.”

“I have learned of a dark magic at work. The day after the Gods’ Feast, the first thirty people in the Mall get eighty percent off whatever they want. They are calling it the Dark Day,” he said ominously, holding his hands out by his side.

A young paladin, Butters, spoke up. “Ooh, spooky.”

Feldspar interjected with disbelief lacing his normally monotonous voice. “The Dark Day? Come on, that can't be real.”

“It is real, Feldspar! I heard about it from the town crier, butthole!”

Ranger Stan stood from his seat. “It is real! They do it every year. But everyone in close proximity tries to be the first inside the Mall on the Dark Day. What chance do we have?”

“On our own? None,” Cartman started, “But if we plan, strategize, and fight together, we can be the first people inside on the Dark Day. And use that discount pricing to get the metals we need to survive.”

 

All over Zaron, townsfolk were preparing for the massive slaughter, only known as the Dark Day. The dark day was approaching and criers and jesters were keeping their kings, queens, and nobles informed. Many denizens were stocking up on food and containers of water. The kingdom’s guards residing in the grande marketplace grew fearful of the massacre to come. The more aggressive citizens were killing off boars, cattle, and other livestock. Their purpose was to drench the person in blood, making for an easy and gruesome lubricant. 

 

The frigid day turned to a dark, foreboding night. The trees of the Lost Forest shook and rattled in the harsh breeze. Ominous clouds hung over the large Kingdom of Kupa Keep that resided in one of the many corners of Zaron. The castle courtyard was a bustling hub of preparation for the Dark Day. Sir Scott Malkinson sat in one of the forges, sharpening a sword for Jimmy the Bard. Many of Zaron’s best warriors were paired off, sparring with sword against sword and dagger against lance. The archers were trying their hand against Tweek. Seeing as Barbarians are known for their archery, Tweek was firing arrow after arrow at his target, garnering bullseyes left and right and sometimes splitting his arrows. Prince Token was running on both luck and skill, missing the bullseye every so often. 

Wizard Cartman was strutting around to various regions, complementing his warriors and correcting their mistakes. “Yes. Yes, very nice. Good.”

He had stepped foot out of the archery range when Paladin Butters jogged up to him, a scroll in hand. “Wizard Cartman! I've brought news from our carrier ravens, my lord.”

The brunette cleared his throat before addressing the populace and reading the yellowed parchment aloud. “The House of Greyhawk has agreed to join our fight!”

There were cries of joys and ecstatic shouts of victory as a new ally was obtained. Stan paused in his teaching Kyle the art of swordsmanship to celebrate with the others, Kyle cheering with his Ranger. Tweek and the archers managed to raise a closed fist and shout victoriously whilst hefting heavy wooden bows. 

"But my friends, we must still find others who will fight by our side! Are there no other factions we can call to our aid?” Cartman inquired, glancing around at his regimen.  
Clyde spoke up, asking, “What about The Federation? Led by Kevin Stoley?”

“Um, no. They're lame and I'm not fighting alongside them.”

 

Back at the Mall of Zaron, a lone guard sat near the entrance, looking off into the distance as he drank a dark brown liquid from a glass flask. His pale hands were trembling as he gripped the clear bottle. Randy swaggered up to the paleing knight in his heavy iron armor. 

“Hey, that's what I'm talking about. You got any extra of that?”

The guard handed Randy his clear flask, brown liquor sloshing against the sides. Randy sat down before muttering a quick thanks and taking a swig.

“Kind of gets a little boring here, you know?” Randy questioned.

“Enjoy the boredom while you can,” the guard answered, foreboding and cautious.

“So you worked here last winter? You worked on the Dark Day?” Randy practically interrogated the man with an eager presence about him. 

“The people-” he flinched, “they started lining up at Late Night, just after the Gods’ Feast. They didn't line up. They just crammed themselves in the archway. I could see their faces, vicious, licking their lips and waiting to get in. Gods, the sounds they made. It was minutes past dawn when we removed the red ribbon. There was screaming. Blood. People tearing each other to pieces while shopkeepers waited for the influx of customers. I watched as a young peasant woman, no older than fifteen, picked up her daughter by the ankle and swung her into an old nobleman’s head. Before I could react, they were around me, clawing and fighting for some kids’ toy. A hand reached into the fray and yanked me out of the mess. Old Cap. He saved us all that day. When it was over, the front of the marketplace was a pool of blood. Bodies littered the grounds, ripped totes and cloth sacs scattered around, tainted red.” He gazed up at the black banner hung between poles of the archway. “And now winter comes again.” After his terror-inducing story, he downed the rest of the brown liquor with fearfully shaking hands. 

 

In the downtown district of Kupa Keep, Cartman and Paladin Butters were wandering towards the castle, conversing about the war to come.  
“Butters,” the wizard started, “I need you to go to the scribes and read volumes one through three of the scrolls about the Dragon War.”

“Yes, my lord. If I may ask,” the blonde said, rubbing his knuckles together, “what for?”

“If we replicate the battle against the dragons, we should be able to win the fight on the Dark Day. I do warn you that the author seems to favor nudity in their writing.”

They stepped through the large doorway of the drawbridge. The two halted and the sounds of swords clashing and arrows flying muted.

“We have word from the younger citizens of Zaron. They've agreed to fight with us!”

The warriors cheered once again at such great news.

“That Veneficus Lamina is as good as ours!” Kyle shouted.

Many of the populace cheered in triumph.

“Wait. What are you talking about, Veneficus Lamina?” Feldspar inquired, as monotonous as ever. 

“That’s what this is all about, Feldspar. We’re all trying to get Veneficus Lamina for our forges on the Dark Day,” Cartman replied.

“I thought we were getting Fortis Lamina.”

“M-me to-too,” Jimmy interjected.

“No… Guys, when I was talking about obtaining rare smithing metals, I was obviously suggesting Veneficus Lamina metals.” 

“B-but I want Fortis Lamina, not weak Veneficus Lamina,” Jimmy refuted.

“Look, guys, we all have to agree on one metal,” Kyle rebutted. “If some of us are using weapons forged with Fortis Lamina, but others are using Veneficus Lamina, we won't be a uniform regime like we're supposed to be. It's all about commitment.”

“Right,” Feldspar started. “Let's all get Fortis Lamina.”

Kyle looked taken aback. “B-but Veneficus Lamina is better.”

The crowd parted for Tweek, who stepped forward, seemingly angry. “No it isn't. It's just more expensive and better for magic! Arrowheads from Fortis Lamina are much lighter, making our accuracy much better. Single-handed swords are also lighter and easier to use, as well as stronger.” He crossed over to stand beside Feldspar with his pale, painted arms crossed over his bare chest.

Cartman began shouting at his troops. “We are getting Veneficus Lumina and that is final!”

Feldspar attempted to surge forward before Tweek grasped his arm, being slightly dragged by the taller boy. “That’s just how Veneficus users are!”

“Fine! If you don't want to fight on the Dark Day then that's fine.”

“Oh no. We’re still fighting on the Dark Day. Just not with you!” Feldspar shouted. “Everyone who wants Fortis Lamina, fight with us!”

Many young men started trickling towards the other side. Every archer and Barbarian present crowded behind Tweek and many dagger wielders went with them. Jimmy tottered over on his wooden crutches, standing beside the noirette thief. 

Kyle watched helplessly as he muttered, “We can't divide like this,” beside his ranger, leaning slightly on the tall, raven-haired boy. He felt the taller boy shift ever-so-slightly and stabilized his balance before seeing his ranger shuffle over towards the other side. “Stan? You're on our side, right?” he asked, voice shaking.

Stan gazed at the ginger High Elf tearfully. “My sword is made from Fortis Lamina, remember?” 

“B-but… How could you? I know it's made from Fortis, but you said it was too light for a double-handed sword. I thought you hated it,” the red-head stated tearfully, voice breaking and cracking every few words. 

“It has more power behind it,” Stan stated, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “I told you that but you didn't want to listen to me because… Because that's how Veneficus people are.” 

Kyle gazed coolly at the taller man through his tears. “I guess I’ll see you on the Dark Day.” One singular bead of water dropped from the corner of his eye, creating a track down his cheek.

“If I see you, I will have to beat you inside.”

Cartman came up behind Kyle, placing a hand on his shoulder, only to have it shrugged off by him. 

“Don't put your hands on me.”

“Come on Kyle. Let these Fortis fucks wallow in their limited magic channeling capacity.”

He waddled away from the ginger with his smaller, yet still fairly large, army.

Kyle turned to follow before halting. “Hey, Stan? Just so you know, I did listen,” he stated angrily, yet broken, before sashaying after the Wizard to the castle.

Stan, feeling guilty, called out to Kyle, but the boy had already disappeared. Craig placed a hand on his shoulder before sauntering out of the castle courtyard and into the village.


	2. Chapter 2

In a fairly large cottage belonging to the knight Marshwalker, a woman sat on a wooden bench with pillows behind her, her feet tucked under an oak wood table. She had wrapped a blanket, crafted from sheep’s wool, around her thin frame. In the stone firepit before her was a roaring orange flame that bathed the small cottage in red, yellow, and orange hues. The woman’s light chestnut hair was cut short, brushed away from her dark mahogany eyes. Randy Marshwalker threw open the wooden door, strutting in and mumbling a Celebration song. He paused in front of the woman.  
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.  
“Hey Sharon. You're still up? I, uh… Look, I decided to sign a contract with the noble and work a temporary job for the Mall Marketplace. I just wanted to try and make some extra cash for Celebration.”  
“Bullshit,” Sharon stated, crossing her arms in front of her.  
He started waltzing away from her. “I did, Sharon. I saw that our noble was looking to make me a head knight and I wanted to prove to him that it would be a good decision.”  
“You did it to get to the stands first on the Dark Day, didn't you.”  
Randy halted on the first step of the semi-elaborate staircase. “No one has thought of it, Sharon. I won't even be out in the crowd. I'll be on the inside when that ribbon is removed. Everybody will be trying to run each other over while I turn around and run right to the merchants. I'll be the first to get whatever I want.”  
“Isn't the Dark Day supposed to be about getting Celebration gifts for other people?”  
“Winter is coming, Sharon. And I'm a sneaky little bee.” He turned with a smirk and sauntered up the winding staircase.

In another region of Zaron laid the bustling  Federation. The Federation is a more magically inclined region of Zaron, its denizens mainly specializing in prophecy and predictions. Their main source of readings is astrology or the client themself. The King, Kevin Stoley, sat in the throne room of the white limestone castle. To either side of him were his advisor and his second-in-command. Near his advisor was a bird bath-esque fixture of cast iron, filled with a clear, filmed-over liquid. The surface rippled and the face of the Grand Wizard Cartman appeared.  
“Hey guys. What's up?”  
Kevin looked surprised by the sudden voice before glancing over at the bowl. “Nothing serious. We just finished an astrological reading.”  
Cartman looked over at Clyde before stage whispering, “Oh my gods, they are so gay!”  
Kevin interrupted his speech with, “Who else is there?”  
“Hi, Kevin!” Clyde shouted.  
“Oh hello, Clyde. How've you been?” he questioned now more friendly due to the brunette being present.  
“I've been good. I'll probably come by and visit for Celebration, if that's alright.”  
“You're more than welcome, Clyde,” he said, smiling kindly at the boy.  
“Alright! Kevin can propose later, but right now is business!”  
The raven-haired man turned cold in regards to the Wizard once more. “What do you require, Cartman?”  
“You're Veneficus Lamina people, right?” the boy asked. His voice was loud, booming like an obnoxious thunderstorm.  
The noirette seemed to cogitate the man’s question. “Seeing as my citizens specialize in magic and Veneficus Lamina is the best metal to channel magic through, I have no choice but to say that it is the most fit metal for the Federation. What reason do you have as to why you must inquire?”  
“What if I were to tell you that we have a way of getting Veneficus Lamina metals really cheap and that you have the potential to join us?”  
“Cheap Veneficus Lamina?” Nelson, his second-in-command questioned, awed by the other’s proposal.  
“Seriously!” Clyde had interrupted the exchange between Cartman and the Federation. “Incredibly cheap and, if you work with us on the Friday after the Gods’ Feast, you can obtain some of the metal, too.”  
“Can't say no to a weapons expert like Clyde over there. We, the Federation, will join you on your quest for Veneficus. Do not let us down, Eric Cartman.”  
“Um, cool. I'm sure we will be in touch soon to discuss our strategies, yes?”  
The man sighed. “We shall be present in three days time. However, you must tell us what sorcery awakens on the Friday after the Gods’ Feast. Clyde, you might want to rethink that trip,” he added with a smile.  
Cartman ran his hand through the liquid, cutting the connection before the shorter brunette could respond. “Come on, we must inform the others.”  
The lithe brunette followed his tottering mass towards the castle doors, exiting into the courtyard.  
“The Federation has agreed to join us!” Cartman announced.  
The more intelligent remaining warriors circled a rounded oak table in an olive tinted burlap tent. The Wizard Cartman sat at the apparent head of the elliptic table. Sir Malkinson sat next to Butters at the brunette’s left hand side, Lady McCormick at his right. Kyle sat with his head hung, eyes bleary and unfocused with no emotion visible on his pale face, tear tracks carved over his freckled cheeks. Clyde sat beside the sorrowful High Elf, squirming in his seat anxiously. The brunette set a comforting hand discretely on the other’s back.  
“With them and the young warrior alliance, our army has just doubled in size!” His gaze shifted over to the downcast ginger boy. “You still think you can convince Marshwalker to come back to our side, don't you, High Elf?”  
The ginger sighed. “I don't know.”  
“You can't change his mind, Kyle. Fortis people don't think with logic. He betrayed us. And now we must make powerful alliances,” the brunette stated.  
“The Fortis people might not be our biggest problem,” Clyde stated suddenly.  
“What do you mean?” Lady McCormick questioned.  
“In the plaza,” he slid a wrinkled piece of parchment over to the center of the table, “this announcement was posted. It says that the aforementioned merchants listed are now selling a new children’s doll.”  
“A children's doll?” Cartman asked, disbelief lacing his voice.  
On the wrinkled, yellow parchment was an ink painting of a hand-stitched, stuffed dragon. It didn't look too well made, and it was more expensive than it should have been. The bead eyes were practically falling off the toy. Its stuffed head was crudely shaped and poorly sewn. And the Warriors couldn't see what was so special about it, unlike the foolishly stupid parents of Kupa Keep.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun cast orange and yellow rays over the dirt floors of the Mall the next morning. The booths and their decorative coverings and flags were bathed in the warm beams of sunlight. Randy Marshwalker swaggered in through the archway towards a small group of guards. The group and he exchanged greetings and salutations, a calm feeling of serenity befalling them.

The peacefulness was interrupted by the captain. “What madness is this?” the scarred old man shouted. He clutched a crumpled piece of parchment between his fists, anger radiating from his person. When the other guards flanked to him, he read the announcement aloud: “Select merchants are now selling or trading for a new stuffed children’s toy handcrafted in a small province in Asia.” He stared over at the merchants setting up their booths in the children’s sector. “You’ve murdered us! You selfish, money-hungry, heartless monsters; you’ve killed us all!”

There was scuffling and snarling, just outside of the archway. The noblemen’s guards and knights froze at the sight of practically mindless villagers emerging from the forest, breaking twigs underfoot and trampling remnants of crisp brown leaves. They were growling at each other and clawing at the wooden pillars supporting the massive arch. 

“Stay back. I’ll handle them,” the captain growled. He marched over to the entryway. “If you have come for the Dark Day, the line starts on the opposite side of that rope,” he stated, pointing to a thick brown mooring rope tied between two large oak trees. The crowd shifted over so that they’re in the correct region as the captain explained “That line is for the Dark Day so people can do regular purchases today.” He quickly marched back through the large entry way as the group started snarling and clawing again.

 

Meanwhile, in a little kingdom known as Blackthorne, Ranger Marshwalker, Feldspar the Thief, and Jimmy the Bard managed to obtain an audience with the queen, Henrietta. The three males knelt before the woman and her right hand, Michael, both clad in black. A short man with unnatural red streaks in his black hair stood to the queen’s left, also lacking in color variety. 

“What is this about, Marshwalker?” the noirette inquired, seemingly peeved at the prospect of having to speak with the ranger and his colleagues.

“We come seeking your help, your majesty. Do you side with those wanting Veneficus, or would you be willing to ally with us on the Dark Day and fight for Fortis?”

The queen pondered his question with little regard for her actual answer. “Here in Blackthorne, we are all about the strongest material with the least amount of light. Since the Fortis metals are blacker and darker like my citizens’ souls, I would have to say Fortis.” 

The ranger looked hopeful before she continued on. “However, I will wait until the metals inevitably become less expensive, resulting in less insolent budgets and expenditures, as well as less casualties of my people on the accursed Black Friday.”

Stan practically jumped into a standing position. “Forgive me, your majesty, but this is about more than the Dark Day. Battle lines are being drawn. If you wait it out, but everyone else has decided to use Veneficus, then it will become the new standard. Fortis will stop being mined, even though the metal has only just been discovered! We’re just asking kingdoms that prefer Fortis to fight with us for what they believe in.”

The boy to the queen’s left suddenly stated, “Sorry, Ranger. I guess we just don’t care enough.”

Dejected, Jimmy placed a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Come on, Stan. There must my allies somewhere that will join us.” The trio shuffled away, spirits low.

 

The day passed by quickly, bright rays of orange and yellow fading into the welcome dark of night. The full moon cast ethereal beams of soft silver over the castle’s lush Garden of Andros, yellow, red, and white roses in perfect bloom despite the harsh weather of Zaron. Just past the neatly trimmed green hedges and dense holly trees was the courtyard. The sounds of clashing metal and fire crackling in the forges was no more, the iron swords at rest for the night and the fires dim. The wizard Cartman and Lady McCormick were wandering through the green forest of a garden. On either side of them were large rose bushes, blooming flowers bright in the soft white light of the moon and stars. The stars that gathered overhead spanned the night sky, an endless collage of bright dots against a black canvas, an overlapping sea of lights comprised of whites, light pinks, and blues. Simply enchanting.

The wizard plucked a large yellow rose from its bush and handed it gently to the noblewoman. “Lady McCormick, I was hoping I could speak with you about the High Elf.”

“Yes, what is it, my lord?” she asked, sniffing the rose delicately.

“I’m not sure if his heart is in the right place. If he were to ever switch sides, it could make Ranger Marshwalker’s army incredibly problematic for us.”

She gazed at him in confusion. “But Kyle is on our side, though Stanley is Kyle’s ranger, his best friend. Maybe even more than that.”

“True, so we can’t let the High Elf come in the way of what’s rightfully ours.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Let’s face it, Lady McCormick. This is really about us getting Veneficus metals to become the most powerful ruler and noblewoman. The others are simply there to help us… slip through that entryway.”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes. That’s right.”

The two resumed their walk through the maze-like garden as Cartman continued. “You have a strong influence over the men, Lady McCormick. All I’m saying is when the time comes, I might need you to use that influence to get Kyle out of the way. Do we have an understanding?”

She turned towards the heavy, tottering man. “Yes, yes I believe we do.”

The two continued towards a large willow tree by the central fountain where the two sat, chatting about the battle to come.

 

At about the same time, Randy wandered around the booths in the extravagant marketplace. He examined the vibrant storefronts, cloths and beaded garland laid over wooden tables and wound around support pillars of the mercantiles’ thatched roofs. He spoke to himself as he surveyed the finished goods sitting upon the oak stands. 

“That broadsword looks pretty nice. Oh, but eighty percent off that crossbow. Maybe I’ll be able to snag both,” he mumbled.

An unknown voice appeared behind him. Doing alright there, Marshwalker?” A hand fell upon his shoulder.

He jumped in surprise, whirling around to see the captain. “Oh, uh hi. Just looking at all of this stuff I can't afford.” 

The captain sighed. “Listen… I, uh, know why you agreed to your lord’s position transfer.”

“Y-you do?” Randy asked, nervous.

“I see it in you. You care about people.” He smiled at Randy. “Same reason I volunteer for my lord every year.” He begins to wander away, motioning for The other man to follow him. “You remind me of my son who died on the Dark Day fifteen years ago. I guess I'm still trying to save him.” The older man halted, Randy following suit. “I-I really appreciate what you're doing. My time is almost up, so this will be my last Dark Day. When I see knights and guards like you, it makes me hopeful that folks will still be in good hands.”

“Yeah… Awesome,” the raven-haired male said, trailing off.

 

In the midst of the night, the only light source came from stone fireplaces and the dim lanterns hanging in the strategy tent of Stan’s army. The olive green, burlap cover was hoisted over two main wooden supports, more inside the tent. It stood near the center of the military camp in the forest. Surrounding it were smaller sleeping tents. Most of the troops were sound asleep on hard, oak wood cots, some with many blankets and pillows, others only a few. Just outside the largest tent was a dimming firepit. Inside the tent, Stan, Craig, and Jimmy sat around a round table with a large map laid out, a small model of the marketplace in the center. The first male sat in front of the wooden model moving small figurines. Craig studied the large sea of oak figures representing the monstrous crowd for the Dark Day. Jimmy interrupted the two males’ concentration with brief updates on Cartman’s military forces. 

“C-Cartman’s army is growing in its ranks every day. In addition to the Federation and the young warriors of Zaron, th-they are now allied with warlocks, giants, the s-s-sirens, and the Mu-uses.”

Craig interjected, “Word is that the squires all prefer Veneficus too. No doubt that they’ll team up with Cartman as well.”

Stan held his head in his hands, elbows dropped on the table. “And who do we have on our side?” 

“Besides us, w-we have the scribes and Lady J-Janice Pinkerton, the fe-emale squire,” Jimmy stated.

“Have you asked the vampire king?” Stan questioned hastily.

Craig nodded slightly. “However, they’re still undecided.”

The other black-haired male stood from the wooden stool, sulking towards the tent’s opening. “There must be a way to get undecided allies on our side,” he mumbled. Outside was the slowly dimming fire, Tweek sitting with two other boys, staring at the dying embers.

“Look, Marshwalker, I think it’s time to give this up,” Jimmy stated.

“Yeah, Stan. We’re just a dying breed. Besides, they have Kyle, an excellent strategist.”

Stan turned on them. “So we’re just going to surrender? What would our predecessors have done when things looked their darkest?”

 

Kyle looked through the window of the guest room he was residing in. The door was shut tightly with the lock drawn. He sat in his crumpled blue sleep robes, thinking as he stared downcast at the full moon. Slowly, he glanced back at the neatly made bed in the small yet lavish room. The pale moon cast silver rays over the flat silk covers and the plush pillows were fluffed. He felt as though something important was missing from the scene. Or, rather, someone.


	4. Chapter 4

In the faraway kingdom of Sony, the king sat in his throne room, a maidservant kneeling beside him. It was a slow day and the king was planning to retire to his sleeping quarters when two of his guards rushed in with the castle herald. 

“Sorry to interrupt, your majesty, but you might want to see this,” the herald claimed. He pulled a crumpled sheet of parchment from his vest pocket and handed it to the king.

“What is this?” he asked. He unfolded the parchment, discovering a crudely drawn portrait of the Grand Wizard. The words around it had no layout, scattered across the page. “‘Winter is coming… Choose a side’?” He turned on his three companions. “Where is this?”

“The kingdom of Kupa Keep. There’s a war escalating and the two forces are looking for more allies.”

“I see,” he muttered. 

 

The next morning, Cartman’s forces were hard at work in the courtyard and training grounds. The best warriors from the Federation had arrived the night before. The wizard wandered around the clearing with Kevin and Clyde. Despite Kevin’s wishes, Cartman distributed melee weaponry to his warriors, commanding them to use swords and daggers in place of their magic. They were struggling to hold the heavy metal blades, used to their metal or wooden staffs. The younger kids were trying to hold their own against Token and Scott Malkinson. The trio finally made their way over to Kyle, who was overseeing the remaining archers and elves in Tweek’s absence. He looked distraught, sitting up on a ledge overlooking the archery range. He halfheartedly called out encouragements and directions, helping to improve their subtle flaws.

Cartman sighed and sat next to the High Elf. “Kyle, you do know that Veneficus is still better, right?” 

The ginger turned his gaze on Cartman. “I don’t know, Cartman. Was I right to leave my ranger?” He looked down at his pale hands. “Did I really make the correct choice? As I see it,” he glared at the brunette beside him, “Fortis is a much better option once benefits and drawbacks are weighed.”

“Kyle, Veneficus is a much better option, especially for a magic user like yourself.”

The ginger looked back down at the range, so the brunette continued on with Kevin and Clyde. Once the three males were far enough away, Kyle muttered to himself, “I think that… maybe Stan was right.”

 

At the exquisite marketplace, the large line of greedy, selfish, impatient citizens had grown. The guards, noticing this, mentioned it and a solution had been conceived. Randy marched outside with small, bright red beaded bracelets. The crowd, upon seeing him, surged with groaning and clawing denizens. 

“Alright, listen up.” The crowd’s clamor get lessened exponentially, so the older man continued. “The mall is no longer allowing people to line up for the Dark Day until Gods’ feast night.” The crowd grew rambunctious once more, causing him to shout out his short speech. “It's okay. To hold places in line we're handing out these bracelets.” The crowd forced themselves towards him, breaking the heavy, brown mooring rope and swarming the black haired male. “Hold on! Oh Gods!” he shouted.

The captain rushed out of the market with several more guards using whatever force necessary to drive the populace back. The graying old man delivered jabs and kicks, pulling people off of Randy. “Back! Back, all of you!” he bellowed.”If that's how you are, there'll be no bracelets! Now go!”

A young man, one of the market patrons, came up behind the old man as he was yanking a livid young woman off of a fellow guard. He placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder before turning him around and thrusting a gleaming silver knife into his stomach, just holding him there.

“I’m getting my son that dragon doll, you fuck,” he growled. 

The captain collapsed as the young man sprinted away with a red bracelet in hand. The rest of the crowd had dissipated, leaving the other guards to rush over to their dying captain. They surrounded the old man, steps away from the forming pool of blood seeping from the open wound. Randy knelt down beside him.

“You did good,” the captain croaked. “The watch is yours now.”

“No,” Randy cried. “You can't die. We really like you!”

“This is what we signed up for. Right, my friend?”

“No, I was lying to you. I accepted the lord’s offer… to be at the stands first.”

The captain let out a humorless laugh. “Now you know how serious this is.” He pondered to himself for a quick, silent moment. “Whatever your intentions were before, protect this kingdom. I give seniority to you. Lead these men.” His breaths were becoming shallow and quick. “Don’t let… the Dark Day be th-the end.” He gulped in a final, hasty breath before his eyelids drooped and his chest no longer rose. The trusted, well-known captain had died.

The other, much younger men looked to Randy for guidance. Now the center of attention, Randy stood. He looked very serious, even angry and upset over their captain’s death. “Get back inside. We have a lot of work to do.”

 

At Stan’s base, more people had arrived. Large olive and brown burlap tents had appeared practically overnight. The fire was a roaring mass of red, orange, and yellow tongues of flame. Craig and Tweek stood to either side of a golden throne, a hooded figure lounging on the soft red cushions and pillows. Stan was standing before a large group of warriors– a collage of Federation knights, fanged vampires, elven archers, and human swordsman, as well as multiple knights-in-training. His broadsword, normally sheathed at his waist, was in his hand. 

“My fellow warriors!” he began. “When we started this fight, it was because we were tired of being stepped on by Veneficus wielders. Now… we have an army of our own! I cannot guarantee that you will live. But I can guarantee that, before this war is over, the victors will be decided.” The army before him cheered with high moral. The flames seemed to grow with their spirits.

Stan grinned before continuing. “Our new leader has joined us to help make sure that we are those victors.” He whirled to face the figure, whose hood was pulled down to reveal blonde braids tied with white ribbon, a gleaming circlet of gold places over the crown of their head. He raised his sword in respect. “All hail the princess!”

The crowd repeated the mantra as the tall, masculine woman rose from her seat, a pink corset top over her purple skirt, carefully woven bands of gold accentuating the slightly tanned skin of Lady McCormick. Lady Kenny McCormick– now Princess Kenny– stood with a scepter in her hand. She twirled one of her wheat-blonde braids around a white gloved finger. Tweek and Craig stood stoic at her sides, escorting her down from the throne’s platform. She glided across the grass, greeting her newfound subjects one-by-one. The night continued on, the warriors slowly falling back to their tents as the embers dimmed. 

 

In one of the larger tents laid Tweek on one of the cots, wide awake. Beside him was the thief, quietly slumbering with the occasional soft snore. The small blonde gave up on sleep and slowly sat up on the makeshift bed, throwing his legs over the side before standing. The small movements woke Feldspar.

“Tweek?” he began tiredly. “What are you doing?”

The blonde froze. “I c-couldn’t sleep. Too much g-going on.”

The thief eventually stood after a few moments of silence and moved to stand behind the barbarian, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s middle. “It’s going to be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tweek turned to face the taller male, hugging him back. “I’m n-not worried about m-me. I’m worried about y-you, Craig,” he muttered, addressing the thief by his birth name. 

“You won’t have to be.”


	5. Chapter 5

With the dawn of a new day came ominous gray clouds and snow. An oily black crow called out with the other morning birds of winter. Large footprints tracked their way up to a snow covered hill, the creator of the shallow prints standing with a brown cloak wrapped around their figure. Princess Kenny gazed down at the bustling kingdom below. Her sky blue eyes scanned the various storefronts of the main street. Banners hung from various lampposts and shop windows, advertising for the Dark Day. Her blonde hair swayed in the wind, bright rays of sunlight reflecting off of her crown. She started trekking down the hillside into the busy cobblestone streets. The baker was hard at work with her assistants, baking sweet-smelling bread in the hot stone oven. The clerks for the bookshop were exchanging silver and gold coins with scribes for scrolls of parchment, placing them in hexagonal slots. The blonde woman passed forges, alight with their fiery bellows, the sounds of hammers hitting metal ringing in her ears.

The young lady made her way to a clearing of dead oak trees and flourishing pines, just outside the village, left with only her thoughts. ‘ _What do I do? I’ve betrayed my kind, chosen my side. I believe that I have made the right choice, but…_ ’ She looked down at her satin-covered hands. ‘ _The land is split in two, brother against brother, friend versus friend._ ’ The woman sighed before mindlessly making her way home, wild thoughts running through her mind. ‘ _My parents will fight on the Dark Day, but for what?_ ’ She quickly turned her gaze forward, a determined gleam in her eyes. ‘ _My followers, though few in number, shall help see me through until I am finally accepted as a princess by all. I cannot rest, for I know that even now, the enemy is training for battle, also preparing for winter._ ’

  
In the castle’s courtyard, Paladin Butters and Sir Malkinson were dueling, swords at the ready. The crowd cheered at every swing, though the two had not entirely honed their swordfighting abilities. The two were panting, Scott’s tongue peeking through his lips. Neither had managed to land a hit on the other.

Cartman jumped up from his wooden throne in the courtyard, Clyde and Kevin standing to either of his sides. “Alright, stop, stop, stop! This is not how you fight! You think this is a joke? On the Dark Day, there's gonna be thousands of people in the kingdom trying to get inside that market keeping you from getting Veneficus Lamina! So what do we do?” He paused, surveying the large crowd. “We survey each enemy, and we attack their weak spots! Scott Malkinson’s tongue sticks out of his mouth, so we hit him in his weak spot!’ He suddenly slammed his crooked wooden staff into the brunette male’s face, just under his nose. The boy fell to his knees, clearly in pain. “There’s another army out there who thinks that they’re better than us, and I will not be bested by that traitor, whore Kenny!”

The tubby male tottered away from the group, towards one of the smaller gardens. Kyle rushed from the crowd that had grown rowdy once more, catching up to the man. “Cartman,” he started, “we should probably discuss our chances.”

“The men are just inexperienced. They need more training.”

“It's not enough! Ever since Kenny switched sides, there are more warriors that want to fight for Fortis on the Dark Day.”

“That godsdamn traitor! You know why she’s doing this, right? It’s because she thinks that she was born with the right to be princess. I told her that she could be a noblewoman, but there can only be one ruler and that’s me.”

“Okay. What are you going to do now?” Kyle inquired.

Cartman turned to him. “Two can play at her game.”

He marched away from the ginger towards the large, wooden, extravagant castle doors. He jogged through the massive entryway and up the grand staircase, trampling the carpet laid over the stone block floor. The brunette finally reached his destination: his study. The study was quaint in comparison to the other areas of the castle. On the walls were maps of Zaron and its regions. Plastered on one wall were maps of just the Federation, Blackthorn, and the Barbarian camps and village– ruled over by Tweek himself. On another wall was a large, elaborate map of the Elven Kingdom– ruled over by Kyle. There was a large desk in one corner, piles of parchment stacked up next to various quills. Bottles of ink sat on shelves above the desk. The shelves on the empty wall were overflowing with leather-bound spellbooks and scrolls. The wizard sat down at the desk and began to write to the Kingdom of Microsoft. As minutes turned into hours, Cartman signed the letter and rolled up the many pages, tying it with string. He then secured it to a raven that was sitting in a birdcage next to the desk before sending it off to the aforementioned kingdom.

  
At the marketplace, the fight of the Dark Day had already claimed another guard. Randy and the other knights stood by an unmarked grave, flowers laid over the disturbed earth.

“Happy was a good man. He did not deserve to die in such a brutal manner.”

A young guard rushed over to the rest of the group. “Captain Marshwalker! The Mall, it's lowering the sale for Black Friday to ninety percent!”

The group of knights burst into chaos. There was yelling and screaming before one guard shouted “Oh gods, they're here!”

There was a clamor outside, just over a snow-covered hill. Then, a large mob of citizens appeared from over the crest of white. They were emitting haunting, ghastly sounds that chilled the Knights to their cores. Randy glanced around at the terrified knights before marching out into the frigid wind.

He began to yell out to the crowd. “If you are approaching for the Dark Day, you are not allowed to be within fifty meters of the market until high moon on Gods’ Feast!”

The crowd was effectively paused. “We aren't within fifty meters!”

Randy sighed. “You're about to be!”

“What if we walk really slow?” The crowd began to shuffle forward at a slow pace.

“You all have to walk slower than that. You have a while.”

The populace then began to shuffle forward, mere inches at a time. Randy rolled his eyes before sulking back through the archway.

  
Cartman and Butters slowly made their way through the Garden of Andros, shuffling along the cobbled pathways. Around them were flowering rose bushes and weeping willow trees. Whitewashed wood benches were placed at intervals in the magnificent garden.

“Paladin, I was hoping that I could talk to you about Lady McCormick.”

The blonde was quick to respond. “You mean Princess Kenny, yes?

The wizard rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, whatever. I need to know how to deal with her.” He plucked a white rose from one of the many blooming shrubs and handed it to the paladin. “How do the people of Kupa Keep defeat the Queen of Dragons?”

“They don’t,” Butters replied. “At least, not in the third volume.”

“You finished reading the three sets of scrolls like I asked, correct?” he inquired, pausing in his trek.

“Yeah, I finished them. However, the dragons haven’t even shown up yet. The kingdom is still trying to find them and the scribes are still obsessed with wieners!”

“Butters, the key to our success is following the plan of attack from the Dragon War exactly. I have to know what happens so I know how to deal with Kenny.”

The paladin deadpanned. “And you want me to…?”

The brunette thought for a moment. “Take Sir Malkinson to the Village of Santa Fe on horseback to seek out George R.R. Martin.”

“Who’s George R.R. Martin?”

“He’s one of the last living survivors of the Dragon War and one of the authors of the scrolls.”

Butters groaned in disgust. “He’s the one who’s obsessed with wieners?”

  
In the Kingdom of Microsoft, the king received a letter from his messenger. “A letter came for you, my lord.”

The old, graying man plucked the letter from his messenger’s tan hands before untying the thin string securing the pages and reading through the ink words.

  
_King Gates,_

_I, the Grand Wizard Cartman, require your assistance and aid. There is an outbreak of war in the Kingdom of Kupa Keep and our side needs a sponsor. We have selected you from many, if you would be so generous as to offer us your support in a time of need. The other side already has a sponsor: your enemy, Sony. They have support and you don’t want to be out-done by them, do you? Think about my offer._

_Sincerely,_   
_The Grand Wizard Cartman_


	6. Chapter 6

Two hooded figures on horseback rode down the cobbled streets of the Village of Santa Fe. the first, Paladin Butters, sat on a white mare borrowed from the wizard, holding a small piece of yellowed parchment. Behind him was Sir Malkinson and his small brown stallion. 

The Paladin yelled to Scott, "Hurry up. You're lagging!" 

The young male glanced down at his horse. "I think Phillip needs to rest!" He shook his head. “I’m not doing too good, either.” 

"Let's just speak to this guy. Then we can go rest," Butters replied. " Oh. Here we are." He knocked on the large, oak wood door thrice before stepping away.

A young man opened the door and said, "Hello. May I help you?" 

"Hi," the blonde started, "We need an audience with Sir Martin." 

The man seemed to ponder the other’s request. “He is not seeing crazed scholars. I’m very sorry.”

“We’re not crazed or scholars!” Scott yelped. “We don’t like it!”

Butters nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty pissed off if you want to know the truth.”

The young man was taken aback. “About what?” he asked hesitantly.

“Let me talk to Sir Martin and I’ll tell him about what,” Butters replied.

The young man opened the door quickly before ushering the young men in. He requested that they sat down on a plush couch in the parlor, rushing off to retrieve George R.R. Martin. 

An old man suddenly rushed through the doorway. “It’s the Red Wedding, isn’t it? You don’t like my depiction of it?”

Butters looked at him strangely. “No, sir. We just really need to know what the Kingdom did when they faced the Queen of Dragons. It didn’t say in any of the scrolls that you’ve already released to the general public.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll release them.”

Butters looked on in confusion. “Well, we really need to know what happens now rather than later.”

“You really want to know?”

Scott stands from his seat on the plush couch. “Please, sir. It’s urgent.”

Sir Martin stands before the boys. “Alright. Our king, King Joffrey, is still at King’s landing, but there was actually a young blacksmith who woke up one morning with a plan. And his weiner gently hung between his legs.”

Butters cut him off. “Can we skip the male genitalia? We need to get to the battle strategy quickly.”

Scott put a hand to his forehead, mumbling. “Shit. I think I- I think I’m going to f-faint.”

The Paladin was quick to support the young male. “What’s the matter, Scott?”

“I told you that I was exhausted. I need food before I pass out.”

“Oh gods,” the older man started. “Why don’t I have my servant make us some food while we talk?”

Butters was surprised. “Oh. Okay, thank you”

 

The next day, in the Garden of Andros, the wizard led the High Elf down a well-worn path. The beaten cobblestone path was lined with flourishing white roses, the occasional pink and red rose bushes occupying small spaces. The ginger elf looked around at the maze of roses in awe as the wizard tottered beside him. He was still fairly downcast, however.

“High Elf,” the brunette began, “I wanted to speak with you about Ranger Marshwalker.”

At the mention of the ranger, Kyle jerked his head up to gaze at Cartman instead of the path before them. “What about him?” 

“Well, Princess Kenny is adored by her forces.” He paused to pluck a glimmering white rose from its bush and handed it to the ginger. “However, Marshwalker is still the brains of her operation.” The elf nodded to signal that he was still listening, despite his interest in the glamorous rose in his pale hand. “ It would be a huge obstacle for the traitorous regime if their strategist were to be,” he paused, causing the other male to stop with him, “indisposed?” 

Kyle stared uneasily. “What do you mean by ‘indisposed?’”

The brunette had a sly look on his visage as he twiddled his thumbs. “That could be up to you.”

The High Elf blanched. “No. I’m not doing anything to him. We’re not playing dirty!”

Cartman sighed. “Fine.” He began waddling along the path. “Did you know that his father is working a temporary job for his Lord as a guard at the marketplace?”

“What are you talking about?” Kyle inquired. “If he’s working for a Lord, it isn’t voluntary.”

“That is where you’re wrong, Kyle. It seems a bit convenient, yes?” The man turned around to face the ginger. “The ranger has someone on the inside to help him. Who’s playing dirty now?”

A messenger ran through the garden in search of the wizard. “Wizard Cartman!” he called. The male turned around to face the young man. “King Gates has gifted swords, bows, even staffs to assist us. Actually, we have enough for every warrior to be armed with at least one melee weapon!”

“This is excellent news,” the stout male said. “I believe that we should pay our enemy a little visit.”

 

Later that morning, the wizard’s forces marched through the town from the castle. Heading the mob was Cartman, borne on a palanquin by several young men. Walking on either side of him were Kevin and Clyde. The army marched past the shops to the land of the nobleman McCormick. The man’s amount of land was incredibly smaller than the neighboring lords’. 

Clyde moved to knock on the rotting wooden door to have a woman with bright red hair answer. “Is your daughter present?” he inquired.

“Why yes,” the lady answered. “She’s out in the forest, near the old castle.”

“Forward, men!” Cartman called.

The bearers waltzed towards the forest, leading the rest of the army. They wandered around a plot of crops and past a glittering pond before coming to the forest edge. The towering trees cast ominous shadows over gnarled roots protruding from the rich earth. Brown brambles and heathers littered the ground that the warriors stepped on. They eventually came to an old fortress. Turrets extended upwards, ivy strewn about and covering the masonry of the edifice. The wooden doors were wide open on rusted hinges and olive tents sat around an open fire in the expansive courtyard. In the main hallway, old tapestries were sewn back together and tarnished suits of armor stood with various pieces missing. The army marched over crumbling cobblestone floors into a large room, former friends standing vigilant before a hidden figure. At the disturbance, they turned on the wizard and his army. Indignant shouts rang out and weapons were brandished until a loud voice called out.

“Let them through!” 

Stan Marshwalker swaggered through the crowd, parting it for the wizard. Behind him was the princess, who was twirling a loose strand of hair around her index finger. She called out to them, but they couldn't decipher her words through the scarf covering the lower half of her face.

“Her majesty bids you welcome to her humble kingdom, Fatass, and suggests that you state your purpose,” Marshwalker translated.

Cartman scoffed. “You can't win this fight. Look around you. Lay down your arms and we will accept you into our ranks once again. We will graciously allow you to fight with us on the Dark Day.”

The princess called out again, still indecipherable. “Her majesty says that she will consider your offer if you admit that Fortis Lamina is better,” Stan stated.

The wizard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, we all understand wanting to have power, alright? But there can only be one ruler and that is me!”

Kyle looked just as offended at the wizard’s claim as Kenny, who sat on her cushioned throne fanning herself, shrieking a finally comprehensible “What?” and then yelling again.

“Her majesty calls you a ‘ball-licking lesbian,’” Marshwalker said.

“That doesn't make any sense,” Cartman shouted incredulously.

Kyle took the chance to step forward. “Stan,” he began, capturing his startled ranger’s attention, “this has gone too far. People are going to get hurt. Good people. What you have started has gotten out of hand.”

Stan fumed. “What I started? How dare you!”

“I’m sorry, I know that our side has gone too far as well. And… I just don't know anymore,” he stated tearfully. “I think that, maybe-” He was cut off by Cartman.

“He means that you're outnumbered ten to one and there's no time left. How will you win?” the brunette patronized.

The ranger stared only at Kyle before answering. “The gods will find us a way. They will make it so.”

The ginger nodded grimly as the wizard ordered his troops to retreat to plan for the upcoming battle. Once the others were far enough away, he whispered, “I apologize, Stan.” The man stared in shock at the High Elf as he continued “I know I was wrong and I know that you won't forgive me easily. So I'm going to help in any way I can.” Before the ranger could answer, he sashayed away, following his supposed leader. 

The hall sat in silence as the High Elf disappeared down the grand hallway. His footsteps echoed on the crumbling stone floor, slowly fading as he exited into the overgrown courtyard.

It was Tweek who broke the stunned silence first. “What now?” he inquired. The audience looked to him. He stepped forward to address them properly. “We have grown in number and now we have someone to inform us of the other side's plans. Now what?”

“Now,” Stan began, “we come up with a plan of attack for the Dark Day.”

 

Meanwhile, the Paladin and Sir Malkinson were struggling to remain patient as the elderly scribe before them spoke. 

“So then Knight Tarly sees the army approaching, and his wiener is about this big.” He made an outrageous estimation and Paladin Butters let his head drop into his hands. “He knows that Captain Baratheon's wiener is probably shriveled from the cold. So Knight Samwell has to rally his men, and what does he do? He takes out his wiener,” the man stated, exaggerating his voice, “and he dangles it around for all his men to see.” His guests displayed their increasing disgust as he demonstrated the actions in his narrative. 

Scott shrieked in revulsion and turned away from the exposed scribe, curling in on himself from his spot on the plush seat. Butters also let out incomprehensible expletives.

“Sir Martin,” he vocalized, “you said that you would have a servant of yours would prepare a meal for us.”

The graying man before them brushed off his statement. “Yeah yeah, it's on its way. They're still coming. So Samwell's wiener goes-” He cut himself off by performing the actions in his tale with ludicrous, senseless noises. 

“Sir!” the blonde shrieked. “You said that it was ‘on its way’ junctures ago.”

The man readjusted himself and pulled his trousers back up to his waist. “Don't worry. It's coming.” He tried to pick up from where he had been interrupted. “Now, Sir Jon Snow finally faces Commander Jaime Lannister, and this guy's wiener is, you know, huge, right? So it's not going to be easy.”

Scott groaned as if in pain at the scribe’s elongated prose.

 

Wizard Cartman was wandering through the Garden of Andros yet again, dubbed the ‘Betrayal Garden’ by one of the elder gardeners that had the pleasure of overheating almost every conversation that transpired in said garden. The older man walking in time with him gazed around, emotionless.

“Your highness,” the brunette began, “I was hoping that I could talk to you about the surprisingly aggressive fight on the Dark Day.”

The man nodded. “Of course, Eric, was it?”

“Um, it's my Lord Wizard Cartman, actually.” He plucked yet another rose from the abused bush, avoiding sharp thorns. “Having your leadership has been a big help. However,” he paused, handing the rose to the taller male beside him, “I hope that we agree that this is still my army. There can only be one ruler in Kupa Keep.”

The man chuckled. “Not to worry. I’m quite good about letting my Lord Commanders do what they want.”

Cartman was taken aback. “Your Lord Commanders?”

The man’s grin turned sinister. “Let's face it. This is just about you and me getting Veneficus Lamina. The others are simply pawns to help us into the marketplace.”

The boy beside him halted. “Hm, um… What?” he stuttered. 

From a gazebo near them, the old gardener– who was trimming hedges– taunted the young man. “How does it feel? Now who's walking who through the betrayal garden?” 

“Why don't you stay the fuck out of my business?” Cartman exclaimed.

The elderly man yelled back at him. “Why don't you stay the fuck out of this garden?”

 

On the island of Sony, the king sat in his lavish palace of glass, gazing out at the village below. A young man approached from behind him.

“My king,” he started, “the Kingdom of Kupa Keep is going to war with itself on the Dark Day. They've requested our aid. Microsoft has already given their side an entire armory. We must have something to combat them, right?”

The king thought for a moment. “Yes. We do.” He wandered over to a bookshelf and returned with a small wooden box. The young man slowly opened the decorated box, a golden glow emitting from the hidden treasures inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Paladin Butters and Sir Malkinson sat painfully unenthused watching the perverse man before them tap a thin, wooden conductor’s baton on an engraved podium. Minutes before, Sir Martin had summoned ten of the best performers residing on his estate. They stood holding scores of music parchment in black dress robes. Sir George R.R. Martin raised the thin baton and started moving it in a triangular pattern. The choir started singing a musical round that was almost as perverse as the conductor.

The soloist began singing the melody over the round. “One wiener alongside yet another wiener.” The chorus sang “wiener” in a continuous rhythm until the soloist began another line. “Two wieners alongside yet another wiener.”

“Party, wiener party, wiener party, party party, wiener party, wiener wiener,” they harmonized.

“Soft wieners, nice and soft, non-erect wieners.”

“Keep them flopping, flopping wieners, floppy floppy, dangle wieners, dangle dangle,” was continued in the background.

“Five wieners in my face-!”

“Stop it! Please, stop it!” Scott screeched. “I can't take any more!” 

The chorus went silent as Sir Martin continued his legend. “But this is the best part. Right before King Joffrey gets poisoned, everyone flaps their wieners all around his face.”

Scott started crying out in disgust and frustration once more before Butters began to rant. “Listen, buddy! You promised that food was on the way! If it doesn't show up right now, you're gonna have a dead kid in your hands! Do you hear me?”

The pervert in front of them began rushing about in a hasty frenzy. “Alright, fine! What kind of food do you want?”

Butters stared at him in disbelief. “What kind of food do we want?”

“He hasn't even told the kitchens staff yet!” Scott exclaimed.

“Don't worry! There isn't going to be two servings. The-there's going to be five! And it's going to be amazing!”

Butters started pulling Scott with him. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

“Wait, I haven't told you what happens yet!”

“No!” Butters shouted, anger overpowering his judgement. “The Dark Day is approaching swiftly and my Lord needs to be the first one into the marketplace for a specific rare metal!”

“Why didn't you say so?” Sir Martin catechized. “I can help with that.” He wandered through the main building of his estate into the study. “I know of a way for you and your friends to be well-prepared for the Dark Day, but I’ll need to send a few letters.”

 

Tweek and Feldspar led the princess down the carpeted main hallway to the overgrown courtyard. In the wild green of the yard, various elves rid the ground of weeds and tried to fix the tall grass. Winter flowers were in bloom in some of the ceramic pots. Standing just inside the entrance with Stan Marshwalker was the king of Sony, his guard, and some of his advisors. Tucked under the arm of an advisor was a mysterious, gilded, oak wood box. 

The king knelt before the young princess, making her seem taller than usual. “I bid you thanks for your alliance with my kingdom. Because of your triumphant struggle in obtaining your royal status, I would like to gift you an artifact from our ancestors.” The advisor placed the small box in the royal’s hand. “This artifact,” he said, opening the box, “will declare you a true princess.”

The princess gently lifted a gleaming brooch from the satin interior of the dark wood chest. The brooch wasn't very large. It fit in the palm of her hand. The pink tourmaline butterfly sat on a glimmering gold backing, hints of sapphire, aquamarine, and amethyst dotting the enchanting accessory. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, King Kazuo.”

In a flash of bright hues, the courtyard grass tamed and thick rose bushes lined various cobblestone paths. A patch of the yard was barren, healthy grass cut off by an uneven dirt ring. Nearby was a small forge with alight bellows and an armory of swords and knives. An archery range miraculously appeared on the opposite side of the clean courtyard. The archway behind the old man fixed itself, cracked stones becoming polished and refined. Tangled green vines of ivy bloomed with winter flowers and the sun seemed to shine brighter. 

“All hail,” the King began, “Princess Kenny.”

“Kenny is a Sonian princess,” Craig muttered to Tweek. 

“Gods,” the Barbarian replied, twitching. “That's a lot of p-pressure.”

 

The marketplace was total mayhem, guards rushing about in a panicked frenzy. The crowd outside was inching closer to the soon-to-be battlefield. 

“Oh, gods. We're dead,” one guard cried. 

Randy Marshwalker put his hand on the soldier’s arm.“My friends, the time is almost here. Let us face these shoppers with the bravery of those mall security officers before us.” A herald came running across the dust and snow. There was a pause as he whispered to the commander. “They're what?”

Two builders lowered a new banner, stating that the Dark Day was transpiring seven days later. According to the posters in the town squares, the Gods’ Feast would happen within the first few days of Winter. The guards blanched upon seeing that the marketplace would offer ninety-six percent off of all items to the first eighty patrons. 

Citizens went into a paroxysm of rage and determination. People became acutely aware of their surroundings when they left their homes for fear of being maliciously assaulted. The more woefully inept stayed inside at all times unless absolutely necessary. And no one believed that they were safe.


	8. Chapter 8

On the island of Sony, a war council was slowly progressing, spiraling into controlled mayhem. One of the advisors began his report of the Microsoft blockade but was stopped by the king calling for the new princess. The tall blonde figure pranced into the room in her flowing pink dress.

“My lady,” the king began, “the kingdom of Microsoft has a blockade on the shores of the mainland that is preventing us from sending your kingdom aid. Would you be so kind as to lend your assistance?”

The woman thought over the plight of the Sonian people. “I shall accept your request, your highness.”

  
Near the mainland, a small fleet from Sony was trying to find a way around an armada from Microsoft. The shores were tantalizingly close behind the large wooden boats. The captain stood at the stern, gazing at the menacing boats from Microsoft. Hope was running thin until a muffled, masculine voice was heard shouting encouraging phrases.

“Don't worry, good sirs!” the princess yelled from her mount on the blindingly white pegasus. “I'm here to help!”

  
The Grand Wizard stared at the young weapons dealer in satirical disbelief. “She did what? She flew down and did what?”

“Apparently,” the brunette began, “Kenny flew down on her pegasus and prevented Microsoft from blockading the Sonian fleet. She's everywhere winning practically two wars for herself and Sony.”

“Be-because what? Because she's cute?”

A messenger came rushing through the large oak doors to the council room. “Grand Wizard! King Gates requests to meet with you.”

“Tell King Gates that he can kiss my ass!”

The messenger began to leave the room slowly. As an afterthought, the wizard said, “Don’t actually send a raven to him telling him to kiss my ass. Tell him I’ll meet with him tomorrow at sunrise.” The messenger nodded before running off.

“This would have never happened if you allowed Kenny her birthright in the first place,” Kyle said.

“She has no birthright! She’s lucky that I didn’t send her to live in the streets,” Cartman replied.

“Well unfortunately for us, she’s on a diametrically opposed side! We are out of options!”

“What are you suggesting, High Elf?” the wizard inquired.

Kyle sighed. “I have an idea. I don’t like it, but I believe that it may be the only choice we have.” He sulked out the doors looking upset. Yet, once the doors shut behind him, he smirked in anticipation. “Either way, I’ll get more than I’m giving you, Fatass.”

  
Outside of the archway to the marketplace, an expansive ocean of people had accumulated behind a large mooring rope tied between two pillars. The chaos was anything but controlled. Persons that were congregated for days had consumed anything to sustain their energy levels in place of sleep. That included various roaming animals consumed raw and even small acts of cannibalism.

Tweek, who was scouting the populace, shied away in disgust. The blonde jumped from the tree that he sat in, landing on his feet and rushing towards the base at Kenny’s refurbished castle. Immediately, he ran into the main hallway and turned into a large council room. “The entrance is blocked. We need to use another entrance.” He pointed to a small storefront beside the marketplace. “Here. The Red pub has an entrance into the market.”

“So the key to being the first inside is taking over the store,” Stan reiterated.  
  
“How do we do that?” Feldspar questioned.

“I don’t know.”

A young man from Blackthorne stuck his head into the room, leaning on the wide doorframe for support. “Uh, excuse me?” Stan motioned for him to continue. “The, uh, Veneficus fighters are here and they say that they want to switch sides.”  
  
“What?”

The congregation followed Ranger Marshwalker to the courtyard where the opposing army stood surrounded. A certain ginger elf brightened upon seeing Stan. “Tell him, Cartman,” he commanded hastily.

The stout man sighed. “On behalf of the Veneficus Lamina fighters of Zaron we surrender our arms. We give up, okay?” Feldspar laughed monotonously, pointing with a small smirk on his face before Tweek slapped his arm lightly. “Shut up, Feldspar! This isn’t a laughing matter! We’ll use Fortis metal for our armories. We still think that Veneficus is a superior material, but you’ve got too many warriors and the Kenny became a Sonian princess.”

“Nobody saw that coming,” Clyde interjected.

Stan glanced at Kyle, who stood behind the large wizard smirking knowingly. “So better Veneficus than nothing?” he asked cautiously. “We’ll take our chances on our own.” He turned away to wander back towards the war council.

“We know a way inside the pub.”

Stan sighed silently in relief before turning back to face the smaller male.

“You’re not the only one’s who thought of it. We were going to use the pub entrance, too. And we've figured out how.” Kyle wandered closer to the noirette, placing a tentative hand on the man’s shoulder. “It can be rented out for weddings,” he whispered. “If we all chip in, we can pay for the ‘wedding’ deposit and use the pub to be the first inside.”

Stan nodded slowly. “That could actually work.”

“Let's do this together. We'll need to work together and, honestly, if you want to use Fortis, then I do, too.”

“And you'll never talk about Veneficus being better? You promise that you'll be okay with Fortis?”

“Of course,” he stated, winking. “You're my ranger after all.”

“Alright guys, looks like we have a wedding to plan.”

  
In the kingdom of Sony, the princess sat beside the king in another war council. Debates were ongoing and the young blonde was beginning to tire. The council was boring the young princess to no end. Thankfully for her, a secretary opened the heavy oak doors and claimed to have a letter for the blonde.

  
_My Dearest Princess Kenny,  
Please return home at once. Our two warring houses have made peace. I ask that you come to a wedding here in Zaron so that we all may recognize you as the princess that you are._

_Yours truly,  
_

_The Grand Wizard_

  
“The houses have found peace?” The blonde smirked before mumbling to herself, “Kyle has outdone himself this time.”

“So,” one of the generals began with disdain, “you will be leaving to dwell with the commonwealth of Zaron?”

The fair maiden rolled her eyes at the man. “I have been summoned, Sire,” she announced, addressing the king. “I will be taking my leave now.”

“Of course,” the man said with a kind smile. “Off with you. You wouldn’t want to keep your people waiting.”

She bowed to him before turning and dashing through the oak doors.

  
The conniving Grand Wizard wandered through the ‘Betrayal Garden’ with his newest prey: the ranger, Stanley Marshwalker. The brunette tottered along beside him, Kyle shadowing from afar. Stan kept glancing back at him.

  
“Alright. I’ve come up with a fairly foolproof plan,” Kyle started. He placed down a fairly small map on the table in the council room. “This is of the Garden of Andros. However, the gardeners started calling it the ‘Betrayal Garden’ because Cartman normally tells his most trusted about schemes in the rose maze– here,” he explained, pointing to a specific place on the map.

_“And this is part of an ingenious foolproof plan?” Stan questioned skeptically.  
_

_“Yes. Cartman is planning on walking you through the gardens to feed you lies. An old gardener works there and enjoys making Fatass’s life miserable. So, he’ll most likely try to tell you that Cartman is planning to betray you, which he is. The plan to use the pub was my idea, but I gave him a false battle strategy. He’ll tell you about it, so I won’t bore you with the details.” The elf placed a pale hand upon Stan’s cheek. “Just believe in me and yourself. Do not let your trust in me waver because of his insolence.”  
_

_The ranger stared at the pleading elf in shock, leaning into his hand. “I won’t”_

  
“Sir Stan-”

“It’s Ranger Marshwalker and you know it.”

The brunette scoffed. “Right. Ranger Marshwalker, I was hoping I could talk to you about the wedding.”

“Of course, what about it?” he asked, distracted.

“I think it would be best to stay back from the doors when the market opens.”

The ranger stared, confused. “And why is that?”

“Well, think about it,” he said, plucking yet another rose from its bush and handing it to the ranger. “The first warriors inside are going to have to take on the brunt of the blood-thirsty crowd from the main entrance. It's best that we let the paladin and Sir Malkinson go first. While they fight, we can simply slip on by.”

The ranger glanced back at Kyle who nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense. But then we won't have as much Fortis material so they may not receive their arms in Fortis Lamina.”

“Yes, that's true. But let's face it, Ranger Marshwalker. This is all about you and me getting Fortis. The rest are simply there to help us get through-”

“He’s lying to you!” the old gardener shouted, leaning on the banister of a gazebo with a trowel in hand. “They're just acting like they've given up, but it's a double-bluff!”

“Shut up!” Cartman yelled, panicking.

“They're going to betray you at the wedding. He got the idea from reading the Dragon scrolls.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Who is that?” Stan inquired.

“Some old guy that gets pissed off that I'm in the Garden of Andros.”

‘The old gardener,’ Stan thought.

“They're going to lock you in,” the elderly man continued. “They're going to lock you in the pub and take all the Veneficus. That's why he wants you to stay back from the doors.”

“Well why don't you just tell the whole world everything, huh? Why don't you tell everyone what Prometheus was about while you're at it?” Cartman exclaimed.

“Did Kyle know about this?” Stan asked, feigning anger.

“Marshwalker, we're not going to betray you. Have you read Prometheus? I don't think even the scribes know what it was about.”

“Did Kyle know about this?” he asked more forcibly, keeping up his facade.

The wizard sighed. “Kyle thought of it.”

Stan sprinted away towards Kyle's room in the renovated castle. He could hear Cartman arguing with the gardener, along with light footsteps on the other side of a tall hedge. He flew through the garden to the bailey. Running through the door and up the fairly grandiose stairwell, the ranger finally stopped before a simple wooden door. The door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it, to show the panting figure of the High Elf. Before Stan could say anything, Kyle pulled him inside and shut the lightweight door.

“Brilliant performance, if I do say so.”

Stan shook his head, amused. “That was some plan. How lucky am I that it was just a diversion to your real tactic?”

“I don't know,” Kyle replied. “How lucky am I that you trusted me?” He tucked a curl of red hair behind his ear coyly.

“Not very. I would trust you no matter what.”

“Good,” he said. He suddenly switched the conversation. “In the garden, Cartman had conversed with me, as well. About you, specifically.”

Stan looked at him with uncertainty. “What about me?”

“Your father is working as a guard in the marketplace for his lord. I assumed that your father is ignorant enough to voluntarily put himself in danger, so I wasn't worried. But Cartman was planning to do something.” The redhead became more panicked, wildly gesticulating with his voice raising in pitch. “He wants you indisposed. I’m worried because I don’t know what it is that he’s planning. So… be careful. Alright?” He stared at Stan pleadingly.

“Alright,” the ranger replied, pulling the elf into a tight embrace. “I pledged to protect you and you alone. I couldn't miss the Dark Day even if I wanted to.”

  
The crowd had grown immensely larger in front of the market. The Dark Day had arrived and, as per tradition, the townsfolk were waiting for the ribbon cutter of the year. That year’s cutter was none other than Sir George R.R. Martin, who was riding towards the market at a strenuous pace with Butters and Scott. Sir Martin was ahead of the two boys, sitting on a gray stallion. Butters was mounted on a copper stallion with Scott slung over behind him, passed out.

  
Cartman stood in the middle of the large pub with an older man holding a partially unrolled scroll. “If we could move these longer tables to face each other right here,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “And we need a shorter table back there.”

Craig and Clyde stepped down off of short ladders, ropes to a banner held in a hand each and wrapped over a peg. Craig let Clyde tie the ropes in place before moving on to help others set up.

“So,” the older man began, “I heard a rumor. May I ask, who’s getting married?”

Cartman was preoccupied, staring blankly at the room, surveying large details. “Oh, uh, Lord Hanks and the performer, Beyoncé.”

“Oh my gods, I love them!”

“Yeah, cool.”

“So she’s not with the jester anymore?”

“Obviously not if she’s marrying Lord Hanks in your pub.”

The man turned on some of the workers. “Not those tables. Get the good ones, these are very important guests.” He wandered away to supervise the rest of the set up.

“Has anyone heard from Butters and Sir Malkinson? Where are they?” Kyle wandered past Cartman nervously. “Hey Kyle,” he said, startling the young man. “Bad news. Stan knows about our plan.”

The ginger feigned worry. “What? This isn’t going to work now!” he exclaimed.

Cartman shushed him. “It’s fine. He won’t be telling anyone anything. Everything has been taken care of.”

Kyle started to panick, looking alarmed. “What did you do?”

“What had to be done, Kyle!”

The elf started backing away from the wizard. “No. Tell me you didn’t.”

  
Kyle wandered frantically down the row of holding cells, stopping before the one containing Stan. The guard stood behind him, speaking. “I suppose there was a minor mistake that contributed to him being here. He’s free to leave with you after you prove him innocent, High Elf.”

“You may leave now and I shall speak with you of the matter soon.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard complied. He marched out of the small hallway to sit in the main room.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Kyle stated. “I’m not leaving unless you go with me.”

The ranger laughed humorlessly. “How?”

“I’m breaking you out. Don’t worry about your fighters. I talked it over with Clyde, so I bet my plan is already in motion.”

  
Randy stood in the marketplace courtyard addressing the other guards. “Now listen up: there are only eight of us. Peterson was a great guy, and he did _not_ deserve to get beheaded like that. Now I don't know about you, but I am sick and tired of getting to know people here, getting invested in their personalities and their back stories, and then having them die!” He pointed to the archway. “When those doors open, we all stick together! If anyone panics, it puts us all at risk!” A young blonde man began to weep. “Stay tough, rookie.”

The men were reassured until various people started flooding in prematurely through the sides, breaking fences. One of the guards backed away, shouting. Suddenly, an arrow pierced his chest, fired from a close range.

Randy held a longbow in his hands. “No! Everybody really liked him!”

  
George R.R. Martin had finally arrived and was standing behind the thick rope with a ceremonial blade. “In the tradition of our ancestors,” he began, lowering the knife, “let's bring in the holidays!” He began to press the sharp knife to the rope, but pulled back at the last second. “But first, I would like to say a few words about my wiener.”

The congregation groaned as a whole.

  
The representatives from Blackthorne marched past the crowd to the pub, only to be stopped by a guard. “Sorry guys, but the Red Pub is closed for a special event.”

“Yeah, we’re with the wedding,” a young man stated.

“Oh, then go right on in,” the man stated happily.

Inside, festive music was played by Jimmy on his lute and Craig accompanying him, Tweek sitting next to the two. Token sat next to Kevin, near the head tables. Cartman sat with the Princess at the two smaller tables.

“Everyone! Everyone, a Dark Day toast. How awesome that we are all friends again. Our two houses brought together. Soon we will all have our Fortis Lamina.” The warriors cheered while Cartman turned to the Princess. “And to you, my old friend, Princess Kenny. You really look stunning. No doubt the gods have smiled down upon your perky boobs. Now, if you'll excuse me, my lady, I need to take a shit.” He stood and wandered over to Clyde, who was keeping watch. “What have you found out?”

“They're still waiting for Sir Martin to cut the ribbon.”

“Oh okay, that could be a while.” He turned away from the young weapons merchant. “All our men are ready. When the mall opens, blow the whistle. We'll rush through the doors and lock the Fortis dorks inside.” He paused. “Alright, now I really do need to take a shit.”

  
Outside, the crowd was growing restless. Sir Martin continued on with his vile prose. “O soft and pink with purple head. Gently you lay with me on my bed.”

“Get on with it!” screamed a female patron.

“‘Growl, growl’ calls the wiener from on high. A little tiny wiener, still so pleasing to the eye,” he added.

“Enough with the wieners already!”

  
Cartman returned from the outhouse and glanced at the entrance, unable to see Clyde. “Clyde? Has anyone seen Clyde?”

The brunette approached from the center of the pub. “Princess Kenny? I think it's time that we returned the wizard’s hospitality.”  
Every fighter under the Princess drew their weapons on a warrior from the opposing house. Tweek had a deadly aim set on Token and Jimmy held his sword to one of the squire’s necks. The princess held her saber under the wizard’s chin.  
“What is this?” he exclaimed in confused fury.

“Sorry, but there’s been a change in plans.”

“Sir Donovan, they're about to open the mall. What are you doing?”

  
“Kyle has been against you the whole time and I decided to join him. I am no longer a Veneficus person. The High Elf and his ranger are indisposed because of you, so I'm going to make sure that they get Fortis! The fight is over, Cartman.”

  
“Not so fast.” King Gates stepped out of the shadows and gazed out at the younger men. “Looks like I came just in time.”

  
“Yeah, King Gates!” Cartman cheered. “In your face, Clyde!”

  
Suddenly, King Kazuo appeared. “Do not interfere, Bill Gates. These children will get Fortis.”

“Wait a minute. How did you guys get here?” Clyde inquired.

“They're not a part of your betrayal?”

Clyde shook his head. “They're not a part of yours?”

“Who's betrayal is this?”

The sound of heavy chains being placed drew everyone’s attention to the back of the room where the marketplace entrance was. The High Elf placed a hefty lock on the chains that Ranger Marshwalker was holding.

“We’re done with betrayals,” Stan announced, pulling the elf close to his side. “It's time to put an end to this!”

  
Inside the marketplace, a young knight stood before Randy, panting heavily. “Sir, Operations just said they need one of us to unlock the door to the Red Pub to let some wedding party inside the marketplace!”

“Screw them! They'll have to fend for themselves! Wait. Red Pub wedding? Who's getting married?” the commander shouted.

“Lord Hanks and Beyoncé, sir.”

Randy rushed about in a paroxysm of nerves. “What? Oh my God, everyone likes Lord Hanks and Beyoncé! I've got to save them!” He began running in the direction of the pub.

  
Stan placed a calloused hand gently on Kyle’s cheek, tilting the young man's gaze upwards slightly. “Kyle, I appreciate what you were trying to do. However, this war is not ours. It never was!” He began addressing the crowd. “Our great kingdoms have been torn apart by two others for the sake of a feud. That's why they want lines around the block. Because they want a war to gain allies. They don't give a crap what kind of friendships they cost. You two want a war so bad?” He threw a one-handed sword to the Sonian King. “Then you fucking fight.”

The king stared at the blade. “I see.”

King Gates turned to him. “Let's finish this.” He began to undo his robes. “It's just you and me.”

“Let's go!” the Sonian King exclaimed, pulling off his top robe.

King Gates was fully topless by that point, branded with various marks of his kingdom. “The winner takes all.”

The fighters of Zaron watched speechless as the two kings faced off. The men circled each other, prowling and searching for weakness. Kyle had worried his bottom lip between his teeth and Stan pulled the elf closer. Tweek watched in a crouch on one of the table, observing from a higher standpoint with Craig standing beside him with a hand steadying the blonde. Many of the younger boys were pushed backwards, away from the quarrel.

“Let this be your last fight, Bill Gates,” came the thick accent of the Sonian king.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every story that I have up is going on short bursts of hiatus for the school year. I'll still post occasionally and I will finish every story, however I have multiple IB classes along with Marching Band. Very busy with no time to do fun things like write. Thank you for your understanding and there are more notes at the bottom for your understanding of vocabulary... You'll see what I mean as you reach the end of the chapter.

King Gates threw a punch at the elder man. It landed on his cheek, forcing his head to one side. With the king caught off-guard, the other was able to kick him in the side and bring him to the ground. The Sonian king managed to hoist himself up and sweep King Gates off of his feet. Craig pulled Tweek from the table into his arms as the two men hurdled by, knocking into the table. Clyde and Kevin had to jump out of the way and Princess Kenny had to abandon her seat as the kings barreled into it. Butters and Scott found their way into the pub, gazing upon the scene in shock.

 

Sir Martin still stood before the crowd that was growing ever restless. “Look at this weiner. Judge it by its size?” He committed the vile action. “Rub it three times and it has a surprise.”

A man in a thick cloak snuck around the rope and gripped onto the other’s shoulder, a dagger held tightly in his opposite hand. “That's it! You're not delaying this anymore, you wiener-loving bitch!” He sliced downward and threw the bloody remnants into the ravenous crowd before using the bloodstained knife to cut the thick mooring rope and let the crowd trample into the market.

The guards were struck with fear as they stampeded through the archway. Two of the guards held each other as they met their fate. Many of the iron-clad knights were trampled and stepped on. Dents were already accumulating in the strong armor. Hurried footsteps were muffled by the dirt ground as the citizens beat each other in their frenzy. Many reached the toy merchants that were selling the stuffed dragons. The fights escalated as the day went on. Randy was caught in the flood of people and struggled against the current.

 

Back at the Red Pub, King Bill Gates threw Kazuo to the ground, shoving his head into the wood-paneled floors repeatedly. “This is over,” he panted. “Now, you die!” The Sonian king’s peppered hair gave way to red as his head split open. Blood pooled around him quickly and King Gates threw his corpse against the pub wall. Tired and breathless, he limped over to the table that Tweek refused to leave. Craig pulled him down yet again as King Gates leant on said table. “It’s over. The Kingdom of Microsoft wins. I suppose that means Veneficus has come out victorious, as well.”

Cartman unenthusiastically cheered, “Yay Veneficus.” The others looked as unenthused as he sounded.

The doors were thrown open by the older Marshwalker. “I saved you! Beyoncé, it’s safe. The fight’s over. You can still shop.” He fell flat on his face in exhaustion.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “My gods. My father is an idiot.”

Cartman led the expedition to the metals merchant. Stan still held Kyle to his side and Craig had an iron grip on Tweek’s wrist to prevent the quirky blonde from climbing anything and perching precariously on it. Again. A shallow lake of red flooded the grounds, dying various wooden stalls and merchandise with blood.

The metals stall was surprisingly unscathed in the pools of blood. The clerk greeted them happily and began the usual sales monologue. “Happy Holidays, guys. What can I interest you in?”

Cartman addressed the man since no one else decided to vocalize their demands. “We’d like some of your Veneficus supply. Enough for an army.”

“Good choice,” the clerk strained a cheerful smile.

 

The fighters sat in one of the palace’s private salons. The small parlor held comfortable cherrywood seating that was taken up by nine or so of the highest ranking warriors. Tweek was perched on the arm of a love seat examining his newly crafted Veneficus arrows. He gazed at the arrowheads with scrutiny, skeptical about their practicality. Craig polished one of his new twin daggers until it shone, lounging on the cushions next to the Barbarian. Kyle stood next to an armchair twirling his new Veneficus staff in his fingers. Stan sat with a new double-handed sword in the scabbard. Cartman reclined over a large seat that could have held three people, a new walking stick clutched in his hands. Princess Kenny watched over Tweek’s shoulder as he twirled the new arrows. Clyde stood in a corner alone, Kevin back in his kingdom. Token and Jimmy sat on the oriental rug lain out over the wooden floors.

“They’re too heavy,” the blonde stated suddenly, anger and frustration lacing his voice. When the others turned their attention to him, he said, “There’s no way these are going to be useful.”

“I’m going to have to agree with Tweek on this one,” Kyle admitted. “This staff isn’t as lightweight as I prefer, but it’s as thin as you can forge it.”

“This sword isn’t doing it for me,” Stan interjected.

“These aren’t sharp enough. The metal’s too thick,” Craig added, gesturing to his dual blades.

Kyle looked around at his sorrowful companions. “How about we take a walk by the lake? We haven’t done that in a while.”

A serene smile worked its way onto Stan’s lips. “Years, in fact.”

“We’ve been so busy with our kingdoms that we forgot to have fun with our friends and allies,” Tweek said.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Kenny squealed. She grasped Tweek’s pale hand in her own, dragging him out of the room with Craig, Clyde, and Token trailing behind. Stan pulled Kyle along with their fingers intertwined. Cartman was heaving by the time they exited the castle. Jimmy was moving faster on his wooden crutches than Cartman.

The lake glimmered, sunlight reflecting off of the clear blue waters. Indigenous fish drifted lazily through the cool water, some swimming to the narrow stream leading to the ocean. Kyle sat with his legs curled up comfortably, Tweek shuddering slightly every so often next to him. His red and gold oriental robes were beginning to be dirtied by the damp grass. Tweek’s woolen trousers were sodden with mud and grime from the marsh region. Stan and Craig stood vigilantly by their sides. Clyde and Token were conversing under the shade of an evergreen tree with Jimmy. The princess was kneeling beside the lake, staring down at the rainbow of fish traversing the water.

“Hey, guys?” she called out suddenly. “You might want to look at this.”

Kyle was the first to rush over and kneel with the princess. A brilliant glow illuminated his pale features with gold. “Wow,” he announced in shock and awe of the light’s source.

Stan looked over the High Elf’s shoulder. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” Clyde started, “but it’s beautiful.”

A thin rod sat in the shallow waters. Upon closer inspection, the group noted that it was made of gold. Small rubies were set in the rich metal. Intricate designs were engraved into the rod, resembling both elven and human symbols.

“My eyes hurt just blatantly staring,” Token began, “but I can’t look away.”

In a blinding flash of light, the warriors present saw visions of a faceless young man with his hood drawn. Soon, they saw a great battle transpiring between the humans and elves, both leaders also faceless, yet obviously Cartman and Kyle. Then, the two warring sides were placed into a fragile alliance. The warriors saw the many casualties to come before the visions faded.

“Truth,” Kenny suddenly stated. “The stick has shown us truth.”

“The Stick of Truth!” Butters exclaimed.

“But,” Tweek interjected, “who will keep this ‘Stick of Truth’ in their kingdom? Humans, elves, barbarians, the healer’s village, the Federation, Blackthorne?”

“Excellent point, Tweek. However, I don’t believe anyone should truly possess such a powerful artifact before we know more about it,” Kyle said. “We should learn more about this relic before making a decision.”

“Well, which kingdom has the largest library?” Kenny inquired.

“I believe it’s the Elven Kingdom in Larnion,” Craig replied, looking to Kyle for confirmation.

The High Elf nodded. “That is most correct, Feldspar.” He stood to address his companions. “We shall study the relic in my realm. Any wishing to aid are welcome to travel with Stan and me.”

Many of those present refused his offer, though a certain barbarian-thief duo agreed to the lengthy travel. The wizard, princess and paladin also accepted to accompany the young elf. Those who were not leaving quickly said their farewells before wandering off to inform the others of the journey ahead. Those who remained gazed at each other.

“So,” the blonde barbarian started, “how are we going to get the Stick out of the pond?”

The others blanched. “Good question, Tweek,” Stan said. He leant over the grassy ledge and pushed a gloved hand into the water. His fingers slowly wrapped around the golden rod. His eyes were clenched shut in anticipation. It was a pleasant surprise when nothing happened to him. He fished the relic out of the water and held it out to Kyle, who wrapped it in a square of cloth in his possession.

“Gather any belongings that you brought with. Meet me at the town limits in one hour. We travel by horseback to my kingdom,” Kyle announced.

 

Tweek threw various articles of clothing into two leather satchels, one a light tan and the other a dark brown. He also carefully placed a small, decorated mirror into the tan bag, along with a wooden brush and an bland pewter ring that was placed into a small pocket. Craig started packing his new daggers into the darker bag, leaving his older ones in their sheaths. He didn’t have very many belongings, being Feldspar the Thief. He did, however, have a small locket that he placed into a pocket in the black satchel. Craig noticed that Tweek had paused in the gathering of his belongings to gaze out of the open window. The blonde slowly made his way over to the open balcony, leaning against the chiseled stone railing.

Craig followed behind him and carefully wrapped an arm around the smaller male’s thin waist. He leaned down slightly to rest his chin atop the wild hair. “What are you thinking about?”

Tweek sighed. “I just have this sinking feeling in my stomach. It’s like my instincts know that something bad is going to happen. But I can’t do anything about it because I don’t know what.”

Craig raised his head up to peer down at the boy. “Whatever it is, we can’t do anything for now. Don’t dwell on the future when you can’t predict the outcome, even of a seemingly bad situation. Just remember that we will always be there for each other, yeah?”

The blonde nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. We’ll be alright.”

 

Kyle sat on the ornamental sheets of the recently-made bed in his room at the castle, a giddy smile on his face. “Can you believe it? We’re going home!”

The raven haired man in front of him stopped his packing to glance at the ecstatic elf. “Can’t wait. We can sleep in our own bed, eat our own food, go riding in our fields, lay under our skies.”

“We can also have time to ourselves,” the ginger said, laughing lightly. His laughter soon died out with his next statement. “You know, Tweek and Feldspar won’t be able to go home like we will. They won’t be able to spend time together like we will. They won’t be able to eat their own food like we will. They won’t be able to lay under their skies like we will. Do they really want to come with us? Or are they coming because they feel obligated?” The young elf was beginning to question his own thoughts when Stan interrupted.

“Kyle, I’m fairly sure they want to go. Tweek is one of your closest friends. By association, Feldspar is also a close friend. Besides, they seem just as curious about the relic as you do.” Stan had made his way over to the lithe ginger, hugging the boy close to his chest.

The High Elf smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Stan.” He quickly returned his ranger’s embrace.

 

Kenny and Butters gave each other sideways glances as Cartman explained a very vague, simple, foolhardy plan.

“We can just swipe the Stick when those idiot elves are scouring their library for books.”

“You do know that only Kyle is an elf, right?” Kenny pointed out.

“Whatever. We just have to wait for them to be distracted. Or we could steal that relic in the night. We won’t be seen and we can just walk right back to our kingdom. It’s genius!”

Butters gazed at Kenny in worry. As Cartman waddled down the tower’s winding stone steps to the third floor bedrooms, Butters mumbled to the princess, “This won’t end well.”

“You can say that again,” she said.

 

A lively, sorrel Gypsy Vanner* mare galloped up a snow-covered hill, towards the dense forest, with an almost untamed look in her dark brown eyes. Perched on her back, legs gripping her red sides with pale fingers twisted into the courser’s** wild white mane –most of which was flowing behind her– was Tweek, his light brown satchel tied around his waist with a bow and loaded quiver slung over his pale, painted back. These aspects, however, were hidden by a lightweight cloak draped over his shoulders and flowing behind him. Beside the sorrel mare was a large black and white Clydesdale. Craig sat tall in the dark leather saddle, booted feet secured by shining iron stirrups. The stallion’s white star marking was partially hidden by the dark brown bridle and its jet black forelock. The male’s gloved hands grasped at thin leather reins.

As the treeline grew closer, the two boys spotted a blue roan*** stallion, blue coat merging into the horse’s black stockings. There were thin braids in its light gray mane, tail tied up to prevent it from matting with a collection of snow and fallen leaves. The equine was secured to a low-hanging branch by the embellished red reins, tied tightly to the dark brown wood. Kyle’s satchel was tied to the back of the light brown leather saddle, small burlap pouches secured to the straps laced over the equine’s hindquarters. Beside it was a red dun**** destrier, just two or three hands taller and also unattended, but safely secured beside the first in the same fashion. Stan’s infinitesimal belongings rested in a small saddle bag that was about the size of a leather-bound book.

Tweek and Craig looked around for any sign of the animals’ owners. Craig managed to catch a glimpse of Kyle’s red robes farther in the woods. He dismounted the large Clydesdale and tied it to a vacant branch, watching as Tweek slid off of his horse and fished a coil of rope out of his satchel. The barbarian placed a pre-tied loop over the mare’s head and secured her beside Craig’s equine. Together they wandered into the dense brush to find the other two men, using Kyle’s bright red robes as guidance. The duo managed to quite literally run into the other two males, who had been making their way back to the treeline.

“Tweek, Craig,” the elf greeted, a kind smile on his pale face. “I thought I had heard Charger bounding up the hill, but I didn’t think I would be correct.”

The blonde let out a good-hearted laugh. “You know her: always excited to travel. I see that Icarus is doing nicely.”

“He’s a tough one, that horse. He’s been through worse, I suppose,” Kyle replied. “He won’t succumb to a mere sickness, I know that much*****.”

As they conversed, the two males wandered off towards the equines, leaving their company to hastily follow after them. The dense green seemed to go on forever, the chirping of birds and quiet banter of the two boys the only living sounds. Their footsteps were muffled by the white powder of snow. The group finally arrived at the forest’s end, waltzing past dark green pine trees and ducking under low branches. Upon their entrance, the muted sound of hooves hitting snow grew louder.

Three equines drew closer, two of which were destriers****** and the other was a courser. The lead destrier was a black rabicano*******, a blonde on the back of the stallion. The princess clutched decorated orange reins in her hands, her feet tucked into the stirrups with her dress spread out and covering the leather saddle. The orange harness straps crossed over each other at the steed’s breast, connected under a diamond-shaped medallion and laced up to connect back with the saddle. The second destrier was seal brown, dark forelock coming down to hide the beginning of the stark white blaze. The wizard was slouched over, the sturdy horse doing its best to keep up with the lead equine. The final horse, a champagne Fjord courser********, galloped swiftly towards the forest. Its untrimmed, dual-color mane –her long forelock would cover half of her face if she were stationary– flowed as she outran the other two, her lithe frame allowing her to easily pass the stallions. Butters was perched on her back, standing in the stirrups of her dark leather saddle. The trio came to a halt in front of the group, Butters coming in first.

“I never knew you had a horse, Butters,” Kyle said, gazing at the lean mare.

The paladin placed a hand upon the horse’s neck, affectionately stroking the pale blonde animal. “I have the princess to thank for this beauty. If not for her, I would be riding with Eric. She’s even letting me keep Sunburst.”

“Sunburst?” Tweek questioned.

“The pretty lady that I’m riding, silly,” he stated proudly.

Kyle greeted the princess and her stallion. “Princess Kenny, it’s wonderful to have you joining us, and on Abbot no less.”

The woman giggled lightly before letting her gaze slide past the elf to a region behind him. “I see Icarus has made a full recovery.”

“Yes, I was worried that he might not have been recovered for the journey back home due to the illness he had contracted once in the kingdom. However, he seems in perfect condition.”

“We might as well begin on our journey to Larnion, seeing as it is almost high sun,” Tweek announced. The rest of the party nodded in affirmation and the equines were soon untied or mounted again.

Tweek hauled himself up onto Charger’s back, tightening his grip on her with his thighs. His fingers found their way to the long white hair just above the Gypsy Vanner’s shoulders. He dug his heels into Charger’s sides and urged her foreword slightly. Craig had mounted his Clydesdale, letting it rear back slightly. Kenny, Butters, and Cartman had stayed on their steeds. Stan shifted restlessly in the saddle, throwing sideways glances towards Kyle.

When Kyle glanced back at the group, he nodded and kicked his heels into Icarus’s sides. The blue roan stallion took off at a strenuous gallop, weaving through the thick forest on an unmarked trail that was well-trodden by travelers. The others followed just as quickly and they were well on their way to Larnion, the Elven Kingdom only three days away.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a key to the large equine knowledge. Also, "Infinitesimal" means very small or unmeasurably small. 
> 
>  
> 
> *Gypsy Vanners were not introduced until the 1800s, almost 600-700 years after this story takes place (1100s-1200s). However, they’re gorgeous horses and I thought Tweek should have one. Our favorite spaz deserves a break.  
> **A courser is the term for a war horse in medieval times that was smaller than the average horse and more lithe, making it perfect for riding into battle.  
> ***A blue roan is actually just a color of coat. The color roan is any natural color for an animal’s fur or coat mixed with white. The two colors can be identified separately and the animals are not a solid color. A blue roan is a horse whose coat is gray (so gray that it's blue) mixed with white. They’re really cool looking horses.  
> ****A red dun is also another color of coat. It's just a really red tan.  
> *****I wanted to introduce Kyle's horse and have Tweek and Kyle make small talk to show their friendship, and this is the product of that.  
> ******A destrier is also a medieval term for a horse. These equines, however, were larger, stronger, and carried more armor.  
> *******Rabicano is another coat color. If you're really that interested, just look up rabicano.  
> ********A Fjord Horse is a thinner, more graceful horse, but it was used to plow fields and pull wagons. It was found in Norway and is considered to be one of the oldest breeds of horse. While they normally have really short duo-chromatic manes, they can have untrimmed manes, also duo-chromatic, which I find particularly beautiful.


	10. NEW BOOK

This thing is over and a new one is coming soon! I love being Rick Riordan with my book series. Let's face it: this is a good first book to a trilogy, so it must be treated as such. So, be on the look out for "Into the Fire," the sequel to this book. Thanks for being lovely!

Don't be a whore

-IHNL


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